Orpheus and Eurydice
by JessB
Summary: The misadventures of EMTs in the desert.
1. The Trees Are Listening

Author's note: Alright, this is my first fic, ever, but I want serious reviews...please be critical, I want this to be good. This is probably gonna be pretty long, and it won't get into the action for awhile. I know this first chapter has all the signs of being a love story, and it is, but it's also some drama and a lot of action. Once again, all comments are welcome, please tell me how I'm doing!  
Also, I freaking couldn't remember hypochondriac boy's name. I thought it was Norman, but do tell me if I'm wrong. The French professor's name would be helpful, too. 

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter One: The Trees Are Listening**

"Paris!" With an envious sigh, Brooke Linear threw herself dramatically down on a bunk in the EMT's common room. The squad watched her in amusement. "It's so not fair. I can't believe that next week you guys are going to be living it up in _the_ most amazing city in the entire world while I'm stuck here doing..." She paused for effect, voice laden with disgust. "_Paperwork._"

Val couldn't help but smile at her younger sister's melodramtic antics. "It's a _school trip_, Brooke. It's not like we're going to be club-hopping or shopping for designer clothes. Think more along the lines of smelly buses, cranky teachers, and boring tour guides." She wrinkled her nose for emphasis. Tyler laughed. 

"Geez, Val, you're such an optimist. I, for one, am excited. Paris just seems so..." He shrugged. "Romantic." Jamie, Hank, and Brooke all stifled laughs as Val and Tyler pointedly avoided each other's eyes. A moment of awkward silence passed before Val hurriedly changed the subject. "Caitie's kind of upset though, since she didn't make the trip. I wish she was going."

"Hey, she's next on the waiting list," Jamie reminded her. "All she needs is for one person to back out. And our dear friend Norman's going...you know he'll get food poisoning or something the day before the trip."

"Or else Alex will decide that he desperately needs us on call, and so we can't go," Hank predicted gloomily. "Then Caitie will get our spots." Tyler laughed nervously, chucking a pillow at Hank. "Come on man, you'll jinx us. Even Alex isn't that bad." Their conversation was interupted as Alex walked in, peering officiously at a clipboard. Shoving his reading glasses up on his forehead, he faced the squad and took a deep breath.

"Guys, I'm..afraid I have some bad news. All our other paramedics have filed for vacation next week. I desperately need you here." Pausing, he observed the teenagers' horror-stricken faces, then grinned. "No, just kidding. I heard Hank talking when I was outside." Ignoring the squad's exagerated gasps of relief, Alex continued drily, "I do, however, need all your paperwork in before you guys leave. _All._ And that's quite a bit. I'd suggest you get to it." Grumbling good-naturedly, the squad obeyed.

***

"So, anyway, I get an office referal telling me to go see Mighty Maximum, and I'm just like, great, what did I do now, right?" Val was listening to Caitie as best she could while fighting the masses of people that barred her way to English class. As Caitie paused, she sensed it was time for a comment. "Mm-hm.." Satisfied, Caitie continued. "So I get there, but instead of telling me I have detention, he tells me..." Caitie stopped in the middle of the hallway to get Val's attention, which was rapidly wandering. "Norman got mono. He can't go on the Paris trip. I'm in!"

Val's attention was caught. She did a little combination bounce-squeal peculiar to cheerleaders. "Caitie, that's great! I'm so happy, I was getting worried that Norman would do the unthinkable and actually stay well for once." Caitie laughed.

"Yeah, not much chance of that happening." The two made their way to English, chatting excitedly about their plans for Paris.

-

Okay! Love it? Hate it? Do tell!  
-JessB 


	2. The Snake Strikes

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns them, not me. If I'm good, though, maybe I'll get Christopher Ralph for Christmas. I mean, are we talking sex embodied in a person or what? But I digress. On with the story.

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter Two: The Snake Strikes**

The following week, fifty-some students and chaperones from Kingsport High School were milling about anxiously in the Tri-county Airport terminal, waiting for their non-stop flight to Paris, France to board. Hank sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the cracked plastic upholstery of his chair. _We have been waiting forever_, he thought, nudging his carry-on bag with his toe. Tyler, sitting next to him, was having much the same thoughts.

"Weren't we supposed to board like, an hour ago?" He asked, peering tensely at the red numbers of the digital clock.

"Exactly one hour, nine minutes, and," Hank checked his watch. "Thirteen...fourteen seconds ago. I am so ready to get on that plane. Let's hurry it up, people," he complained.

"You'll be taking that back once you've been in the air for twelve hours," Val teased, overhearing Hank's comment as she approached them from behind. "In the meantime, do either of you know what's up with Jamie?" At Hank and Tyler's confused stares, she pointed to where Jamie stood staring out one of the large square windows that opened onto the glistening wet runways below, his forehead pressed against the glass. "When we first got here, he sat staring at a book for forty minutes and never once turned a page," Val informed them. "Then he got up and went to the window. He hasn't moved since. I think he might be dead." 

"You noticed too, huh? I was gonna go try to snap him out of it. He'll get frozen to the glass," Caitie intoned dryly, strolling over to join the conversation. Val smiled in relief. It was obvious she was worried, but didn't want to make Jamie mad by approaching him. "Good idea," she agreed. "You know him better than any of us." Caitie shrugged, obviously not considering it a big deal, and made her way to where Jamie stood.

"Hey." Jamie jumped, startled out of his reverie by her greeting, then smirked in self-mocking of his own nerves. "Hey. What's up?"

Caitie shrugged, tilting her head slightly to one side. "Nothing, just wondering what had you so transfixed. Sorry if I'm interrupting some kind of meditation." Jamie attempted a laugh, turning away from the window.

"Don't worry, I'm just practising my powers of telekinesis. I was about to move that luggage cart with sheer brain power," Jamie kidded. Caitie smiled in appreciation of the joke, but wouldn't allow herself to be side-tracked.

"No, seriously," she said. "Is something wrong? You looked kinda intense there." Jamie grimaced, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"No, it's just that it's...um. Snowing," he stated matter-of-factly. Caitie raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. "..Yeah?" She finally prodded. "It has a tendency to do that in winter. You know winter, snow, cold, ice, fat old men in red coming down chimneys..." Jamie grinned weakly, suddenly very interested in the scuffed toes of his combat boots.

"Yeah, well, I know. But isn't it...not good to fly in bad weather?" He looked up at her, querying at his most sarcastic, "You know, snow, water, electricity, shortages, fizzle, crash, die?" Caitie blinked at Jamie owlishly, then bit down hard on her bottom lip to stifle a giggle as her thoughts clicked into place.

"Jamie? You've never, um," She smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Been on a plane before, have you?" Jamie raised his eyebrows, looking up at her with a sheepish smile. Caitie laughed. "Oh, god, don't even worry about it. It's like, _no_ big deal at all," She assured him, rolling her eyes for emphasis. "I mean, there's more chance of getting struck by lightning than being in a plane crash."

Jamie chuckled, running a hand through his hair to revive the spikes, some of which had been crushed against the window. "My uncle was struck by lightning," He informed Caitie solemnly.

"Oh, well, now you're just being difficult."

"It's what I do."

"Yeah, I noticed. Um," She glances up and caught Jamie's eyes. For a brief moment she forgot what she was planning to say, then blurted out, blood rising to her cheekbones, "Want to sit next to each other on the plane?" She felt her blush deepen, and added hurriedly, in a forcedly joking tone, "You know, so I can help you out if you get a sudden case of vertigo."

Jamie's smirk widened momentarily to a real smile. "That'd be good. You know, me and my phobias." There was a brief pause as the two smiled uncertainly, but their moment was interrupted by a clipped voice coming over the loudspeakers. "Flight number 4606 non-stop to Paris, France is now boarding at Gate 9. Flight number 4606 non-stop to Paris, France is now boarding at Gate 9. First call."

"Well, that's us," said Jamie with an air of resignation. The pair reached down to grab their carry-on bags and joined the throng pressing towards the hall.

Caitie checked her ticket as she and Jamie shuffled forward in the slow-moving line of people heading to their seats. "Twelve-a, twelve-a," She muttered under her breath as she scanned the silver number plates. "Alright! Window seats," She informed Jamie as they slid into their places.

"Oh, joy," Jamie returned sarcastically. "I really, really need to see the ground from thousands of feet up."

"Baby."

"Damn straight."

***

Night came and went quickly on the east-bound plane. Most of the passengers were still asleep as Jamie watched the first filtered rays of morning creep across Caitie's face, made angelic by sleep. What was it about just watching her that could make him so happy? A smile sprang unbidden to his lips as Caitie's brown eyes fluttered open reluctantly, and she stretched, cat-like, to a more upright position.

"Man, these chairs seriously not comfortable," She complained with a small laugh, rubbing the small of her back.

"No kidding," agreed Jamie. "I don't see how you could possibly have fallen asleep. Caitie just smirked as she raised the window blind. Jamie peered over her shoulder at the rolling tan landscape below them.

"Desert?" Asked Jamie, perplexed. "I didn't think there was a desert between America and France."

"It's something about plane geometry. You know how the shortest distance between two points is a straight line? Well, that's just on flat surfaces. On a sphere it's a curve. We're probably somewhat over north-western Africa right now." At Jamie's incredulous stare, Caitie grinned smugly. "Not all of us sleep through math class, Jamie."

Jamie's retort was lost as the sudden, deafening crash of an explosion rocked the plane. Caitie and Jamie stared at each other as the intercom crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen," Stated the pilot's barely controlled voice. "Someone is shooting at our plane. We've lost an engine. We're going down."

**Author's note:** Okay! Sorry, Amanda, I know I asked you to beta this for me, but I was so glad to get it finished that I couldn't wait to post it. Hopefully I'll have chapter 3 sooner. I hate to leave you guys with a cliff-hanger. :P Thanks so much for all the positive reviews, people. Hope this part was to your liking...please tell me! -JessB


	3. Eurydice is Bitten

**Disclaimer:** They all belong to Disney and Heartbeat Productions, not me. Bummer.

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 3: Eurydice is Bitten**

"Ladies and gentlemen," Stated the pilot's barely controlled voice, "Someone is shooting at us. We've lost an engine. We're going down."

When the explosion had first rocked the plane, Val and Tyler had both half-risen out of their seats, some innate EMT sense alerting them to the call of duty. At the pilot's announcement, however, they both sunk back in a disbelieving stupor. For a few frozen moments, the entire plane went deathly silent. Then, the reality of the situation hit the crowd and a panicked murmur rose.

"Shooting at us?" Blue eyes wide, Val turned to Tyler, her drawn face begging him to negate the statement. "Why would anyone be shooting at us?" Tyler swallowed against the fear he felt rising in his throat.

"I don't know," He told her, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible. "I--shh, listen." With a staticky rustle, the intercom snapped back on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have to make an emergency crash landing. We should all be able to get out of this okay, but the plane will most likely sustain considerable damage. I ask all of you to remain calm and assume crash position."

"Crash position?" Tyler echoed bemusedly, staring blankly about the plane. Obviously, someone had paid attention to the pre-flight instructions, because one by one the passengers began leaning forward, holding on to the seat in front of them. Taking their cue from their neighbours, Val and Tyler did the same.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the passengers hunched in their chairs, tense with fear and anticipation. The only noise was the choked splutter of the remaining engines as they struggled to hold the plane aloft. Suddenly, there was a tremendous dull thud, like a fist slamming into a stomach as the plane hit the ground. Hands were wrenched from their death grip on the headrests of seats as their owners were thrown violently backwards. From the back of the plane came the gut-wrenching wail of metal ripping and fires igniting. The plane skipped forward on the sand, creating a massive jolt every time it made contact with the sun-baked sand. The thick safety-glass of the windows came loose with the staccato noise of a machine gun, sending fragments flying to rip open upholstery and flesh. The smell of blood began to mingle with the heavy chemical smell of smoke as tongues of fire licked the walls. Once more the plane slammed into the ground, and with the heavy shuddering groan of a sobbing child, lay still.

When Tyler finally summoned up the strength to open his eyes, he was shocked to be greeted by the bright glare of full daylight. Cautiously looking up, he found that somehow the roof of the plane had been ripped almost entirely away. Great chunks of the walls were gone as well, exposing them entirely to the world around them. His thoughts wrenched fully back to the present as a tremendous wall of heat hit him like a physical blow. It pressed down on him in waves of an almost smothering intensity. Gasping for breath, he tore blindly at the seatbelt that still held him against his seat until he was freed, and acting on an instinct, turned to Val.

Her slender body was slumped forward, unmoving. With an efficieny of movement hastened by fear Tyler leaned her back and pressed his fingers to the wrist. He gasped in relief as a dull throbbing pressed against his eager fingers. Reaching up to her face to brush her hair back from her forehead, he tried to call her name to wake her. His voice came uncertain and hoarse.

"Val. C'mon, Val, wake up." With the reluctance of a dreaming child, Val's eyes fluttered open. Blue eyes stared up at him blankly for a moment until reality hit her. She gasped, surveying the destruction all around them. "Oh, my god," She murmured, raising her hand to her mouth. Tyler nodded grimly.

"Come on, we should check and see if everyone else is okay...I don't think anyone expected it to be that bad." Val nodded and was about to release her seatbelt when a dark shadow suddenly clouded the openening next to their seat. With a sense of unexplicable forebodeing, they both looked up. Looming menacingly in front of them was a man dressed in full army fatigues, his eyes clouded by sunglasses. With the practised indifference of familiarity to the motion he levelled a massive gun at them. White teeth flashed in his dark face as he said smugly in heavily accented English, "Welcome to Libya. You are now prisoners of the Arab Nationalist Movement."

**Author's note:** Blah, short chapter. Okay, I promise it won't get too much weirder. I'm starting to really like cliff-hangers though. Bwaha. >=) Please review! -JessB 


	4. Eurydice in the Underworld

**Disclaimer:** Note mine.

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 3: Eurydice in the Underworld**

Val Lanier unconsciously grabbed onto Tyler's arm, staring in wide-eyed terror as gun toting men poured into the plane, their arrival rudely awakening its battered and bruised inhabitants. When grim-faces soldiers were standing at attention throughout the aisles, one particularly officious looking man made his way to the front and commanded attention by pounding on a chair with his fist.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice rang out, heavy and staccato. "Welcome to Libya. You may refer to me as Commandant. I am the leader of the Arab Nationalist Movement. We seek to free Libya from submission under the heel of America." Murmurs of approval from the guards rose at the Commandant's statement. "You are now our prisoners. We will lead you to a more comfortable camp where you will remain for the duration of your stay here. Any attempt at escape is futile: there is nowhere to run. You are surrounded by desert for hundreds of miles on all sides. Please prepare to leave." All business, he strode back down the aisle to converse with one of his men in muted Italian as the students slowly came to grips with the situation.

"Tyler!" Val's whisper was high with barely contained hysteria. "What do we do?" Tyler took a deep breath, fighting back panic himself.

"I don't think there's much else we can do besides what they say," he said, trying to be reasonable. "I personally don't want to argue with those guns. There's-" He was cut short as the Commandant cleared his throat and began snapping out orders, first in Italian, directed at his soldiers, then accented English to the passengers.

"We are moving out. If you will please follow me and remain calm." In a stupor, the students rose out of their seats. Some began frantically assembling bags but were halted in their actions by another barked order. "No excess items, please. Also, leave all phone, pagers, etcetera on board. Anyone found with anything of that nature will face consequences." Even more subdued, the students began filing out of the plane.

Val gasped as she stepped of the plane. The heat was almost unbearable. It seemed to radiate off everything in shimmering, mocking waves. She felt the pressure of a headache build up as she narrowed her eyes against the glare. At her side she saw Tyler pulling off a button-up overshirt to reveal a thin white wifebeater. Shaking her head, she nudged his arm. "I'd put that back on it I were you. You don't want a sunburn. I'm guessing they don't have a ready supply of aloe vera." Tyle grimaced, but complied with her suggestion. 

"Hey, guys." Val spun around to see the source of the greeting, Jamie, standing behind her, Caitie hovering next to him. Val and Tyler both managed half smiles in acknowledgement of their friends' presences, but Jamie hadn't come by just to chat. "Look, have either of you seen Hank?" At Val and Tyler's puzzled negative head shakes, Jamie sighed, running his hands through his hair. The spikes were going somewhat limp in the heat. "There were forty students and twelve teachers going on this trip," He informed them dully. "I've counted the twelve teachers, but there are only thirty-nine students. I can't find Hank. Caitie thinks.." He paused, unwilling to voice her sentiments. Caitie filled in.

"That crash was...pretty severe," She said hesitantly. "I'm no medical professional like you guys, but I'm worried that something could have happened to him." The colour slowly drained out of Tyler's face, and Val tightened her grip on his hand. "I'm not saying he's dead or anything," Caitie amended hastily. "He could have been knocked unconscious, or...or anything, and maybe the terrorists didn't see him." Tyler looked positively sick. His best friend? Dead? Even if he was just hurt, how long would he last out here in the middle of the desert?

Their tight little cluster drew the attention of a guard, who paused to glare at them. "No talking," he admonished, gesturing forward to indicate that they should keep their mind on the task of moving. They obeyed, each lost in his or her own little cloud of thought.

After about an hour or so of marching, Jamie felt ready to collapse. The sun seemed to be growing steadily more ferocious. The sand was painfully hot even through the thick soles of his boots, and was impossible to march on, slipping and shifting with every step. Moreover, he was thirsty. Every breath agitated his throat and chest. If they had to march much longer, he was just going to sit down and risk getting shot.

"Man," he spoke up, so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "Does this suck balls or what?"

"No kidding," agreed Caitie. Val let out a dusty laugh.

"It's you guys' own fault, you know," she rasped. "Never participating in any sports...I'm sure you're both terribly out of shape. Those black clothes can't be helping either." 

"Don't remind me," Jamie groaned, pulling at his sweat-stained shirt. He would have shed it long ago but for Val's warnings of sunburn. It was a good precaution, he acknowledged, noting that their faces and all other uncovered skin were bright red. Still, a long-sleeved black tee wasn't exactly ideal desert wear.

"Any idea how much longer?" Tyler grumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Jamie cracked a dry grin.

"What, the big tough football player wimping out on us?" Tyler opened his mouth to reply, but shut up as Val pointed, squinting.

"Look!" She exclaimed. "I think that's the camp." Shimmering in the distance was the heat-distorted image of what they all fervently hoped was their stopping place.

It took another twenty minute's march to finally reach their destination. It was more a fort than a camp, sun-bleached walls jutting high above the sand. Large doors were hauled open to admit the prisoners, then slammed shut with dismal finality. The inside had a disconcerting resemblance to a Nazi death camp, decrepit barracks lining the walls. Caitie closed her eyes in hopelessness.

"We. Are. Screwed."

**Author's note: Ack! Sorry it took me so long to get out! See? No cliff hanger this time. Go me. But...what happened to Hank? ;) -JessB**


	5. Orpheus Mourns Eurydice

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the IaHB people, but Lieutenant Boshears is mine. All mine, darn ye.

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 5: Orpheus Mourns Eurydice**

Hank Beecham settled into a sense of disconnected contentment as vague, swirling shapes whirled lazily about in front of his eyes, dusty khaki melting into bright flashes of silver and white. A cherubic face with the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen peered at him with a mix of interest and worry. An angel? For a moment, everything faded to black.

With a gasp, Hank shot up to a sitting position, and was rewarded with an intense throbbing behind his eyes. "Oh. My god," He murmured, raising a hand to his forehead.

"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" Despite the pain of the action, his eyes shot open to identify the source of the forcedly cheerful voice. It came, he noted with a mild shock, from the blue-eyed "angel". He couldn't tell how old the woman was; she had to be almost a foot shorter than him, with a very young, slim build, but she had a face made old by a battle-worn expression. Hank blinked, shaking his head as if the motion would clear it.

"What's going on?" The lady's fake smile faltered, as if she had suddenly forgotten to hold it up. Running a hand through her cropped brown hair, she frowned.

"I guess I should begin at the beginning. Okay, for starters, I'm Lieutenant Commander Sarah Boshears of the United States Navy's Libyan Special Ops force. Which means that's you're, well, in Libya. Do you...know anything about this country?" Hank shook his head bemusedly, her out-of-place perkiness disconcerting. The lieutenant sighed. "Okay. Well. Libya, as a rule, gets along pretty well with the rest of the world, but at one point they supported all kind of terrorist action. They stopped when the U.N. imposed sanctions which have now been lifted, and everything's pretty much okay, but there are some Nationalist groups that are still angry about the sanctions." Hank furrowed his eyebrows, putting the pieces together.

"And it was these guys who shot down our plane?" The lieutenant nodded eagerly, and Hank ran a hand over his face. "So. Where do you guys come in?" He was willing to go along with her happy-go-lucky little world if he could get some sense out of her.

"I can't tell you most of it, it's sort of confidential. But one of our functions is to limit terrorist actions. Our scouts found the wreckage of your plane and extracted you from it. You were unconscious." Hank shifted slightly on the cot, noticing for the first time how badly he ached.

"Okay. Where's everybody else?" The Lieutenant didn't respond immediatly, but turned her back and pulled a syringe out of a drawer. She approached Hank with an all-business expression.

"Hold still, I have to give this to you."

"Don't you dare give me that sedative," warned Hank. "Where are my friends?" The lieutenant looked shocked.

"How did you know it was a sedative?" Hank gave her a withering look.

"Lady, I'm an Emergency Medical Technician. Look, I'm not going to have a nervous breakdown. Just tell me where they are." She grimaced, but complied with his wishes and didn't mince words.

"The Arab Nationalist Movement got to the plane before we did. You see, a chair had fallen on you, hiding you from view. They would have shot you if it hadn't. They're not going to waste time worrying about moving an unconscious body. But the rest of the passengers, as far as we know, are their prisoners."

Hank sucked in air, his head pounding worse than ever. He was beginning to wish he had accepted the sedative. "All of them?" She nodded, and her face suddenly creased in fierce determination.

"But don't worry. We'll get them back." Her mood shifted back to sunny smiles. "It's what we do." Suddenly, she depressed the syringe into Hank's arm with such expert ease that he barely felt it. "Go back to sleep, you'll need it later." Hank found that he wasn't inclined to argue, and gratefully collapsed back onto the cot. Just as she was about to leave, a question struck him and he propped himself up on one elbow to call out to her.

"Hey!" She turned.

"Yes?" "How old are you?" The lieutenant's smile acquired a mischevious quality.

"Sixteen." The absurdity of her answer barely had time to hit Hank before he faded away to sleep.

**Author's note: Okay, just want to clarify this: Eep! I haven't uploaded in so long, I hope you guys haven't forgtten about me. My internet stopped working last weekend, and I just got it fixed! I've had this part ready forever (it's sooo short, I know)...and I'm editing the next part, should be up in a couple days. Oh, and while I'm at it, let me clarify this: I have nothing against Arabs/Lybia/Africa/etc.etc.etc.! Really! I just needed a country that could (concievably...so I stretched it a little) be on the way to Paris that had some terrorist activity, and yes, Libya really does have Arab Nationalists wreaking havoc here and there, so it worked. Please don't hate me! I do not discriminate on the basis of race/religion/gender/handicap/sexual preference/etc.etc. :P Also...please review? Huh? Please? C'mon, I only got twelve for my last installment..I felt kind of unloved..I know the action's slow (it picks up in the next part...promise), so I don't really blame ya, but still...;) Luv ya all, -JessB**


	6. Orpheus Consults the Muses

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

# Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 6: Orpheus Consults the Muses**

"Women in the right, men in the left." Soldiers barked out orders, using the butts of their guns to assist people too slow in getting to their appropriate bunks. Tyler winced as one dug hard into his ribs.

"Not exactly big on patience, are they?" He muttered to Jamie as they shuffled along with the throng into their dismal bunks. Jamie's smirk melted into a grimace as he picked up a dingy looking blanket.

"Not exactly big on hygiene, either. Ugh. I get top." Using the lower bunk to boost himself, Jamie swung himself up to the top bunk and bounced gently. "Falls a bit short of a Sealy," he commented, pressing on the thin mattress.

"Mmm." Tyler plopped down gingerly on the lower bed. "If you step on me coming down, you'll live to regret it."

"You think we're gonna live that much longer anyway?"

"Thank you for the reminder, Dr. Doom,"

groaned Tyler. "I'm sure the United States will give them what they want soon, and they'll let us go."

Jamie flipped over to his stomach, allowing his upper body to hang upside-down off the bed so he could look at Tyler. Glancing briefly to either side, he lowered his voice, "Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I'm pretty sure the U.S. has a policy of non-negotiation with terrorists. Unless an all-out rescue is mounted for us, I don't think these guys are gonna let us go."

"But what are they gonna do with us if the U.S. won't give them what they want? They can't just house and feed...oh, Jesus." Tyler's ruddy complexion went ashen. "They're not going to just kill us, are they? I mean..." His voice rose slightly, and Jamie hastily shushed him, slipping off the top bunk to sit next to Tyler.

"Quiet. Look, I could be wrong. I don't think the U.S. would just leave us here. I hope they'll try to rescue us. So don't say anything," Jamie's eyes grew hard in warning, "Especially not to the girls. I don't want them getting upset. I just think that we need to begin considering our options in case worse comes to worst."

Tyler's thoughts clicked into place immediately. "You actually think we could actually escape this place?" He queried, voice slipping into a whisper.

Jamie stared mometarily at his hands. The march through the desert had left grime embedded under his fingernails, and the backs of them were already beginning to blush red from sunburn, as they had been one of the few places left uncovered by his clothing. He was sure that his face, the other area, was looking about the same. "I don't know," He admitted finally. "But we might not have another choice."

***

"Aren't you awake?" The big blue eyes were back. Hank's thoughts floundered for a moment, but snapped back into place with relative ease. Libya. Lieutenant Boshears. The squad. He sat up slowly, back muscles screaming in protest.

"Gaah," He drawled unintelligibly. Boshears smirked.

"Guess that's a yes. Here." She shoved a plate of bland looking food at him, which he accepted numbly. From a cooler she filled a glass of water and set it next to him, along with a white pill, which he glared at suspiciously. "It's an Aspirin. Don't be paranoid."

Hank swallowed it willingly, but couldn't help from commenting acidly, "Right, like I have so many reasons to trust you. The sedative was a nice touch." The lieutenant winced.

"I'm sorry. The commander ordered me to give it to you, just in case. Things work that way in the military."

Military. The mention of her age surfaced again in Hank's mind, and he shifted the subject.

"You're really just sixteen?" Her mouth curled into a self-mocking smile.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact..um..would you like to meet everybody else?" Without waiting for an answer, she ducked out of the room, a bright rectangle silhouetting her frame before she let the door swing closed. Pausing just a moment to gather his thoughts, Hank stiffly followed her.

After the relative dimness of the building's interior, the sudden sunlight was almost blinding. It took him a moment to get adjusted before he could follow her into another building, much larger, he noticed, than the medical one. His eyes had to adjust back to the dim atmosphere once he ducked inside after the Lieutenant. He hovered uncertainly near the door, taking in the area. He was rather impressed that a facility like this could exist in the middle of the desert. Computers and various technical equipment blinked red and green near the walls, and the center was furnished with chairs and tables. A few people were occupied busily throughout. At the pair's entrance, several looked up, curious, but returned to their work once they decided who he was. Before Hank could continue his analysis, the lieutenant grabbed his arm, her small fingers being careful of his bruises, and led him to the center of the room where a man was bent studiously over a map. The lieutenant cleared her throat softly to get his attention. His head snapped up sharply, and Hank started at the face, not the one of a battleworn officer that he had been expecting, but one that should have been found in a high school. His thoughts were interrupted as the young man stood to introduce himself.

"Hi. I'm Commander Cooper Forrest. I lead the force here."

"Hank Beecham," Hank informed him weakly as his hand was enthusiastically pumped up and down.

"Glad to meet you. I can't really introduce you to everyone right now, but if Bosh would be be willing to take you around..." He paused, looking at the lieutenant expectantly. She nodded her acquiesence and led him away while the Commander returned to his maps.

"Bosh?" Hank asked, puzzled. The lieutenant grinned.

"We're pretty relaxed here, and normally go on a first name basis, but at one point there was another Sarah, and Boshears was deemed to hard to say. Hence, Bosh. You should call me that, too. Hey, Steph!" Her herald caught the attentions of a young girl carefully arranging a first aid kit. She was very similar to the lieutenant in appearance, right down to the big blue eyes, but seemed gentler and less intense. She greeted the two with a warm smile.

"Hey there. You feeling okay?" This was addressed to Hank, who nodded, confused. Bosh laughed.

"Say yes. This is Lieutenant Stephanie Crawford, the medical officer. If she thinks you're sick, you won't move out of bed for a week. Steph, this is Hank Beecham."

"And I feel fine," Hank assured her. Stephanie grinned.

"Alright, but don't let Bosh scare you away from me. I don't bite. Have you met everybody yet?" Bosh and Hank shook their heads at the same time.

"I'm taking him around now. Where's Castle?"

"In the rooms, I think. He might be asleep. I'll tell you when he wakes up. He's still not feeling well." Bosh nodded.

"Guess it's Blase and Deff, then. I was hoping to spring them on him last." She grinned mischeviously. Steph grinned.

"We do what we have to. See you guys." As she turned back to her first aid kit, Bosh led Hank to the bank of computers where a boy and girl sat hunched over the glowing monitors. "Hey, Blase, Deff," She greeted them. The two looked up reluctantly from their work. "Guys, this is Hank Beecham. Hank, this is Ensign Blase Durmont," She pointed at the young man, who reminded him eerily of Jamie, "and Ensign Jaclyn Delphiki. Who goes by Deff." The girl, despite her Greek name, was very blonde and pale. They both offered smiles and "heys" before turning back to their work. Boshears paused, waiting for them to say more, but realised they weren't planning to, and shaking her head, led Hank away.

"Come on. I'll take you to a room." They exited the building into, to Hank's surprise, a rapidly darkening desert evening.

"How long were we in there?" He wondered, peering at the sky. The lieutenant glanced up absently.

"Oh. Not long, the desert's just weird like that." She led him wordlessly into the last building in the area, and up a narrow flight of stairs. They came to a hallway full of closed doors, and she opened the one farthest away from the stairs. "Here's your room. You should probably get some more sleep, I'll come and get you for breakfast in the morning.."

"Wait," Hank interrupted. "Look, if this is confidential or something, don't answer, but..what's up with this place?" Bosh looked puzzled.

"What d'you mean?"

"What are you guys doing here? Why the elaborate setup for such a small group..or are there more of you? And _why_ are you all so young?"

For a moment, puzzlement creased the young lieutenant's forehead, but her face quickly cleared. "Yes. Of course. No, it's not confidential, it's just we..don't really have visitors or know how to act around them. Sit down. It's kind of a long explanation." The two plopped down on the mattress, and Bosh tucked her legs up underneath her, closing her eyes momentarily as if collecting her thoughts.

"Okay. The story behind the place is this: several years ago, Libya was a real hotspot for national affairs. The U.S. installed this facility as a base of operations, but as things calmed down, it was abandoned. As far as the Libyan government knows, it still is. But recently, things have started to happen...such as the shooting of your plane...and the U.S. got worried. So they put us here." She paused.

Hank prompted, "And, 'us' would be?"

"Me, Cooper, Steph, Blase, Deff, and Castle. Castle you haven't met yet, but we're the only ones here."

"And how old were they?"

"Cooper's the oldest. He's seventeen. Steph, Castle, and Blase are sixteen, just like me. Deff's the youngest, she's fifteen."

"And...why are you in the military?"

Bosh rubbed a hand against the back of her neck, obviously agitated. "There's no way to say this without sounding horribly arrogant, but...we're all geniuses. Steph, Castle, Cooper and I all graduated from college at around fourteen or fifteen. Blase and Deff...their story's really fucked up, and I won't get into it, but if you're around here long enough to get to know them, you'll have to ask someday. Long story short, having little other place to go, we all sort of wormed our way into the military, and quickly found each other. We began training together, and sorta cemented ourselves. Now we get all the jobs like this...ones that require a highly specialized but small group of people, and that nobody else wants. It doesn't really bother us, we enjoy a challenge. Up until now, though, we haven't been doing much besides surveillance. With your plane, though, that's obviously gonna change." Hank nodded slowly. "Anything else you wanna know?"

Hank was still having a hard time absorbing everything. The crash must have dulled my senses, he thought wryly. I'm not grasping much of anything quickly. Still, this is a lot to grasp. Finally, he shook his head no. "But I'll probably think of something late tonight, so will the offer still stand tomorrow?"

Bosh grinned. "Of course. Now go to sleep." She flicked off the light as she stepped out of the room, and Hank drifted off into dreams.

***

_Author's note: Gah. Been a *long* time. I'm so sorry! Immense thanks to everyone who supported me in my absence. :) I didn't grasp the new chaptering system, so I had to delete everything, including my reviews. :( But..you can give me lots of new ones to make up for it! :) Love you all! -JessB_


	7. Eurydice Meets Pluto

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 7: Eurydice Meets Pluto**

"Ash his heart onto the ground, pull his guts out by frustration, careful, you might kill him.." Jamie Waite sung quietly under his breath, carefully folding a square of discarded paper as he sat cross-legged on the rickety upper bunk. His tune was interrupted by a sharp kick aimed at the bed just beneath his rear.

"Shut up. It's five o'clock in the morning. I'm trying to sleep," complained Tyler, kicking the bed above him once again for emphasis.

"Just cause he can't hear what you say, doesn't mean that he's not listening, if you listen to your words, he might like what you say," Jamie retorted, increasing his volume impudently. He finished folding the piece of paper and launched the Origami swan down at Tyler. "Bird."

Tyler caught it and examined it briefly before tossing it to the side. "Thanks. Now I have twelve. I was beginning to be upset, eleven simply wasn't good enough. Can't you make anything besides swans?" He didn't get a response, and tried another question. "What're you singing?"

"Better Off Dead, by A New Found Glory."

"Never heard of them."

"That's because you're a golden child, you don't listen to punk music. More's the pity." Something small and square hit Tyler directly in the temple. "Box," Jamie informed him.

"I gathered." Tyler tossed it down with his collection of swans. "How much longer 'til we get to leave for breakfast?"

"I think just a few minutes. People are waking up." Indeed, all around, disheveled men and boys were stirring to life, groaning as rigid joints extended and light assulted sensitive eyes. The door of the cabin creaked open and orders to head to the mess hall were barked out. Amid much grumbling, the men tumbled out of their bunks and trailed outside.

Inside the hall, Tyler and Jamie quickly grabbed their bowls of what was supposed to be breakfast and secured a table. They were quickly joined by Caitie and Val, who entered with the women a moment later.

"So, this is day what? Six?" asked Caitie, staring distastefully at the bowl of glop. "And every morning it's the same tasteless sludge...I think they just go boil sand until it's soft and call it oatmeal."

"Is that possible?" asked Val incredulously, then quickly smacked herself on the forehead. "Sorry. Wow. Cheerleader moment."

Caitie shuddered. "Good. Jesus. I was afraid I was going to have to hit you there for a moment. Seriously."

"Now, now," chided Jamie. "Violence is never the answer." Caitie didn't respond. Her brow furrowed, she peered across the mess hall, half rising from her seat.

"What's he doing? Hey. Hey! Stop that!" A couple tables over, one of their female classemates had somehow angered a guard, who had promptly knocked her out of her chair. He began slamming his foot into her side, yelling at her in rapid Italian. Before the situation had even registered in the mind of the others, Caitie was off and running. Cursing the guard with words even Jamie was suprised Caitie knew, she jumped on his back, clawing and slapping at him. The guard, his attention transferred away fully from his victim on the floor, reached around behind him and grabbed Caitie by the wrist. Despite her adrenaline-aided rage, the slim form of Caitie was no match for the hulking guard. He flung her to the ground, then, coolly, impersonally, lowered his gun at her.

Bang.

***

"So, you're in the process of doing what, exactly?" queried Hank through a mouthful of breakfast bar rations. Bosh had spent the past half or so filling him in on the finer details of their operation, and was trying to figure out how he could best be of help, after he had made it very, very clear that he was not, no freaking way, at all, just going to sit back and relax while his friends could be in very extreme danger, he'd march across the desert alone to find them first, thank you very much.

"Well, right now we're trying to figure out exactly where and how they're set up. Then, we'll go in, scout around, see if it's plausible to mount a rescue operation without outside help. If it's not, which it probably won't be, we'll try to get assistance from back in the states. We won't get it. We'll formulate the least suicidal plan possible, and go in anyway. What we're trying to do now is figure out how to do all that without getting killed."

"So where do I fit in?"

Bosh bit her lip, pondering. "Well. Blase and Deff are the computer gods, they'll be breaking into their security system and letting us get in undetected. I don't think you'll be working with them. Even if you did have computer skills to equal theirs, they wouldn't want outside help. And, to be frank, you don't have the computer skills, anyway." Hank nodded agreement. "Forrest and Steph do most of the planning. Forrest's a strategeical genius, and Steph is very person-conscious. She makes sure he doesn't get any of us killed. Not much for you to do there, either."

"What about you? And that other guy? Castle?"

"Castle, yeah. Well, we do the grunt work, I guess. We'll be the ones actually going in the complex, dodging or shooting guards, whichever, and getting your friends out."

"I could do that."

"You?"

Hank raised an eyebrow at the surprise in Bosh's tone. "You think that I couldn't do it?" Bosh flushed.

"It's not that. It's just, I don't want you to have any misconceptions about it. It sounds glamorous, dodging bullets and sneaking through shadows, but it's not. I love my job and I would never quit doing it, but at times it really, really sucks. The first mission I went on, I was a nervous wreck for weeks afterwards. It's frightening the first time, and not like skydiving or something is frightening, where you're scared but there's an urge to scream 'yee-hah'. It's terror that comes from not being able to see, to talk, from knowing that any second a bullet could rip through your ribs and that would be the end of you." Bosh's serious expression was broken by a slight grin. "Of course, after you've been on three or four missions, there is a definite 'yee-hah' urge, but you're not gonna be around that long." The grin vanished. "But anyway, I'm willing to train you for it, if you're serious. But I just want you to know the ramifications, and be sure."

Hank nodded curtly. "I'm sure."

***

Brooke sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to force bleary eyes to focus on the computer screen. Just because V- just because the squad had disappeared over some far away desert didn't mean disasters had stopped happening right here in Kingsport, she had told Alex as forcefully as possible while fighting back tears when he had gently offered her a break from the station. Anyway, she needed something to fill her days, especially since the city schools had announced a closing of two weeks in view of the recent 'loss' of so many sons, daughters, and friends. Brooke's throat had closed when she heard the word 'loss' said with a concerned frown by the news anchorman. They're not lost, she had wanted to cry, we'll find them, but something blocked her voice and she couldn't get the words out. It had been a week since it first became news that the plane carrying fifty Kingsport High students to Paris had crashed somewhere in Africa, and with no other updates except the continued empty assurances from politicians and officials that 'we're still searching', even Brooke's fierce hope was beginning to fade.

The snow that had started falling the day the plane had departed hadn't really stopped since, and the crisp white blanket that had at first been delightful had now turned to a dingy grey that seemed to serve as a reminder that the town was in mourning. Brooke's parents were too distraught to do anything, they just sat together, clasping each other's hands, mouths pulled into wavering frowns, eyes fixed on the phone. Brooke had taken the household chores upon herself without comment, she needed them, ever efficient Brooke needed a task to complete, or else she's go insane. She had been at the grocery store a couple days ago, checking off items on the list she'd made, when a nice-looking middle-aged woman pushing a cart just behind her suddenly burst into tears, leaning against the racks of cereal boxes for support. Her choked-off sobs were the only sounds in the whole store; it seemed that people had stopped conversing with each other, those who had been affected out of grief, those who hadn't out of some bizarre show of respect for those who had. Another middle-aged woman had come up to the sobbing one, and was murmuring comfortingly with tears streaming don her own cheeks. Brooke had ignored the rest of the items on her list and headed straight for the check out counter, trying not to notice the fact that half the patrons of the store now had tears blossoming from their eyes, and that she was included in this number.

The phone rang. Brooke picked up and responded, her voice only somewhat tight, "Kingsport Emergency Center office, how may I help you?"

"Um, yes, this is Kip Renners with Kingsport High School.."

Brooke felt hope rise in her chest, "Yes?"

"Do you have a student named James Waite who works as an EMT?"

Hope gave way to confusion. "Yes..."

"We were wondering if you could give us any contact numbers for him. We haven't been able to reach his guardian through the one we have, and we need a valid one in case the situation changes."

"Oh. Okay. Just a moment." Brooke dug out Jamie's file, carefully found the page with his emergency contacts numbers, doing her best not to look at anything else, as it was, after all, confidential. She gave the numbers impersonally to this Kip Renners person, said goodbye, and hung up. And waited for the phone to ring.

***

**Um. Heh. Okay, so, if after my sabbatical of like, two months, anyone's still interested in Orpheus and Eurydice, here 'tis, the next chapter. I've been on vacation for three weeks, so, um don't hate me too much? <=) Hope somebody out there's still reading. Oh, and, thanks to Momo Claus for asking about what was happening back home, that's one element I'd completely left out! Hope this is better. :) -JessB**


	8. Eurydice Meets Pluto Continued

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Orpheus and Eurydice

**Chapter 8: Eurydice Meets Pluto Continued**

The last echoes of the gunshot filtered out of the air, and a deathly silence fell over the assembled crowd. For a moment, everything was frozen, a still frame capturing horrified expressions and tensed bodies. Like a second shot, Jamie's anguished cry broke the silence.

"Caitie!"

He tore across the hall, feet flying over the same path Caitie had sprinted moments before. All of his EMT training rushed out of his head as he found himself kneeling behind her. He pulled her head onto his lap, her name spilling over his lips over and over. He bent over her face, and felt relief flood him as her saw her lips, drawn back in a grimace of agony but wordlessly mouthing his name. The thaw of the paralyzing, mind-gripping fear that had frozen his soul like an icy wind when he saw Caitie flung to the floor was halted, however as his hand groped for hers, and found it clutching the gaping hole in her stomach. He pressed his square, calloused fingers over her slender white ones, blood blossoming up between them. In some corner of his consciousness he was aware of Tyler's voice, yelling for people to get out of the way, shouting in Italian between the guards, and Val's tearstained face and efficient hands. He felt a stab of terror as someone began gently prying his fingers away from Caitie, but better sense prevailed and he sat back as a wad of blue cloth- Tyler's shirt- replaced their hands. Blood dripped from his fingers to pool silently on the concrete floor as strong arms came to bear Caitie away.

***

"Castle, this is Hank Beecham. Hank, this is Ryan Castle."

As he clasped hands with the other boy, Hank appraised him silently. He was, perhaps, an inch or two shorter than Hank, but definitely slighter of frame. He had close-cropped brown hair, penetrating green eyes, and a good natured smile. He noticed that Castle seemed to be observing him with the same unabashed openness. Because of these mutual inspections, they clasped hands perhaps a second too long, and Bosh, standing slightly behind Hank, cleared her throat.

"Um, Castle, Hank's gonna be working with you and me until we get the hostages back." Castle dropped Hank's hand, the smile vanishing from his face.

"With _us_?" Castle's voice rose incredulously, his gaze swinging to Bosh as if forgetting Hank was there. "You're kidding me." Bosh shot him a death look.

"No, I'm not kidding you. And Forrest's already agreed to it, so there's not much you can do. I think he'll be a good addition, anyway." The line of her jaw tightened, daring him to disagree. Castle's eyes narrowed calculatingly.

"Has he had any training at all?"

"I'm on my school's football team," Hank put in unhelpfully. Typically, he would be offended at the implied lack of competence, but Castle's manner of ignoring his presence was getting unsettling.

"He's a licensed EMT," Bosh replied, also ignoring Hank. "Squad captain." Her voice, while it still had a hard edge to it, was soothing, trying to get Castle to calm down. "So he knows how to deal with tough situations. He won't freeze up on us, and that's the main problem, Castle, we can teach him everything else." Castle's eyebrows flew up, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Bosh paused, then grinned back. "Okay, maybe not _everything_ else, but enough. It will be at least a week before we actually have to go in and do anything really life threatening, we can train him."

Castle sighed, and stepped back, examining Hank once again, but this time with a much more critical eye. "Well," he drawled finally, "we'd better start training."

***

Val sat hunched over in a plastic chair, fingertips pressed into her forehead as she stared at the prone form of her best friend, still save the slight, irregular rising and falling of her chest with each laboured breath. The past few hours had been, with the possible exception of her father's heart attack, the worst of her life. They had rushed Caitie to the camp's pitiful excuse for a medical ward, where she, Tyler, Jamie, the two doctors who had accompanied the school group, and the camp's single medical technician, had worked feverishly for two hours, two horrible hours filled with the taste of fear and sweat and the coppery scent of blood. They had removed, replaced, cleaned, mended, and soothed until they had done all the could do. All that they could possibly do, and Caitie was dying.

The damage was mendable but not fixable. The tools weren't advanced enough, the medicine not strong enough. Each breath Caitie drew, each beat of her heart was an incredible strain on her fragile body. She couldn't eat, would not be able to unless she recieved far more intensive care than they were able to provide. There was an IV drip running slowly into her veins, but the lifegiving solution was limited, and would be gone in five days at the most. Then, even if somehow her heart kept beating, her lungs kept drawing breath, if somehow she contracted no fever or infection that they had no drugs to battle, even then, she would slowly, painfully starve to death.

When they had finished, they had trooped silently out of the room, this realistion weighing intolerably on their minds. Waiting for them was a uniformed guard who said in clipped, accented English, "We are sorry about your friend. The guard who shot her was not authorised to do so. He has been reprimanded." Val remembered Tyler's stupified expression, knowing hers was much the same, and Jamie's voice, iron-flecked and barely controlled as he repeated, "_Reprimanded?_ He fucking _shoots_ an innocent girl and you _reprimand_ him? You people are insane! You have no right to do this! You are _evil_. This isn't _right_, don't you grasp that? This isn't-"

"Jamie..." One of the chaperoning doctors had stepped forward, placing his hand on Jamie's shoulder to calm him down. Jamie had flung the doctor's hand off him with more violence than Val had ever seen Jamie use. He turned to glare at the doctor, a stare that could have burned holes through rock. But he had gotten enough control of himself to step forward, his face millimeters away from the guard's as he gritted out, shoulder muscles tight in an effort to keep his voice restrained, "If she dies..." He paused, intensifying his glare. "If she dies, I will kill that guard."

Val collaspsed forward, head cradled in her arms, thin shoulders racked with sobs. _I'm glad he told them that,_ she thought to herself, _I'm glad, because if he hadn't, I would have._

***

**Author's Note: Hey! I got it out pretty fast...sort of. Yep. Well, anyway, I'm getting near the end of this thing...I estimate maybe three more chapters, four at most...and I'm glad cause I need something new to work on. I'm debating whether or not I should do more IaH stuff, and if I do, whether I should complete 'So Tell Me Nothing's Wrong' or start something new entirely, or just move on to other fandoms/original stories. I would really appreciate suggestions on that, and, as always, this story. Especially, do you want more Val/Tyler/Jamie/Caitie, more Hank/Bosh/etc., or more Brooke/the people back home? Lemme know what to write! The Injured!Caitie thing is getting a bit old, I know, but, well, it's Orpheus and Eurydice, man. That's the way the story goes...though I'm not promising I'm sticking to the plot entirely. :) Love you guys. -JessB **


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